


Hell's Kitchen

by CaitieLewd



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Blackmail, Bondage, Chains, Creampie, Crying, Cunnilingus, Discipline, Domination, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Fire, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Masks, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Prostitution, Punishment, Rape, Sounding, Stripping, Sub Sans, Swallowing, Temperature Play, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Waxplay, blowjob, sansby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-01-18 01:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12377907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaitieLewd/pseuds/CaitieLewd
Summary: Sans hasn't paid his tab in quite some time. Grillby takes it upon himself to impress the importance of financial responsibility on him.





	1. Kitchen Prep

**Author's Note:**

> Day 16 of kinktober, and day 2 of the intense dick torture: WAX PLAY! And masks. I had an abridged version of this story in mind, but since it’s my only Sansby story (or story with Grillby in general) I decided to go all out. AGAIN. Uuuugh I’m getting behind so fast, lol. Well I promise you all no matter what happens I’ll get through all of the kinktober prompts eventually, even if it takes into November or December.
> 
> This is sort of your run-of-the-mill “Sans pay your tab” scenarios, but I hope the kinks and mystique make up for the genericness of the setup!

Sans was pulled into consciousness reluctantly, the pounding in his skull signaling he was in for a wicked hangover. He opened his mouth to let out a groan, then immediately began coughing dryly. Wow, he was _hot_ , perplexingly so. The scorching air around him dried up every bit of moisture in his parched mouth, and his shirt and shorts were heavy with sweat. At some point, he must have been divested of his coat, though after searching the vague memories of his drunken stupor, he wasn’t exactly sure when that might have happened.

He slowly opened his eye sockets. There appeared to be some kind of cloth bag covering his head, with strings tied off around his neck. The thick black cloth covering his face only allowed for quick, shallow breaths, which only made each nervous breath feel more and more suffocating. As Sans tried to move his body, he realized the gravity of the situation.

Or lack thereof. He was dangling from chains shackled to his wrists and ankles, suspended in the air and facing upward. Had he been a monster with flesh, the strain against his joints would have been excruciating. But being a skeleton, he only felt some stiffness in his neck and chafing where his bones met the shackles.

Given the heat and chains, he was beginning to think he might actually be in hell. Had he really been _that_ bad? Maybe in those last few years he hadn’t exactly been the best brother to Papyrus...and sure, he had more than a few outstanding debts with people. But he certainly hadn’t been evil or mean-spirited. At least not when it wasn’t justified.

As he became more lucid, Sans realized that was extremely stupid. There was no way in hell that he was in hell. Though he definitely was chained up in a blazing hot room, with no sounds but the soft crackle of fire all around, and the tinkling of his chains when he moved.

He was tempted to summon some bones and blasters to free himself, but with the bag over his head he had no clue what was beneath him. For all he knew, he was strung over a lava pit in the middle of Hotland.

Knowing it was probably a horrible idea, but unable to come up with a better plan, Sans called out.

“he—” He instantly succumbed to a horrible, rasping coughing fit, amazed at how much the hot air was affecting him since he had no actual throat or lungs. Maybe it wasn’t the heat...was that magic in the air, too? Was he surrounded by _magic_ fire? Where in the world—

A nearby door opened, then shut.

“h-hello?!” Sans croaked, turning his head every which way, trying to orient himself with the door. Quiet footsteps clicked on a hardwood floor, gradually closing in on him. Sans licked the inside of his mouth, swallowing dryly. He summoned the most threatening voice he could muster. This was probably all just a prank, but he still didn’t appreciate it. “i-i dunno what kinda s-sick jokes you’re into, buddy, but this isn’t very funny.” He hated how his voice shook, but it couldn’t be helped now. “a-a-and trust me, i know a thing or two about b-bad jokes.”

The footsteps stopped just to his right, and he swallowed again as a fresh wave of heat hit him. “s-so...so you b-better take this off, right now, pal. or you’re gonna have a  R E A L  B A D  T I M E”

While the hood kept the dramatic fade of his eye lights hidden, he hoped the crackle of magic in his voice would send the message.

Unexpectedly, the hood was yanked off. Sans’ vision was filled with nothing but fire, and he absolutely started, crying out and kicking in the chains.

“w-w-whaaa—” he choked. His SOUL flared out with fear, coming dangerously close to summoning an attack. But then his brain started up again. Of course he was surrounded by fire, that shouldn’t have been surprising. He forcibly banished his fright, remaining just aware enough to not let the attacks manifest—not yet anyway.

Even though he could see how the chains were connected to him, he was also aware that huge walls of flames completely surrounded him from all sides, and likely below him as well if the ominous heat soaking into his spine was any indication. With his one HP, a single misstep when landing could dust Sans in an instant.

“what is—w-where the fu—” Sans looked all around him. Aside from the fire, there was a figure standing patiently to his right. The sight immediately put Sans at ease.

“ _grillbz!_ oh my god...heh heh heh, you gave me a real scare there, pal,” Sans said, grinning despite the precarious situation he was in.

Grillby said nothing in response. Not at all surprising, he was generally a monster of few words. The pause gave Sans a moment to take in the bartender’s appearance.

Grillby was wearing his usual work outfit, for the most part. The vest and apron were absent, his bow tie was untied, and his sleeves were and rolled up to his elbows.

And then there was the mask. A black mask covered the top half of Grillby’s face. It was fairly plain, no glitter or sequins or feathers like some masquerade accessory. Just a few flame patterns cut into the arches at the top, holes where the embers if his eyes flickered behind, and a black cloth that tied it on in the back. If it had covered the top of his head as well, it might have looked like an executioner’s mask.

“g...grillbz? grillby?” Sans hedged. As much as respected his friend’s tendency toward silence, he felt the current situation merited more than a blank stare from behind a creepy mask. “think you could...help a guy out…? i dunno what’s goin’ on, but it’s getting a little hot in this kitchen if you know what i mean, heh.”

More silence. He couldn’t see Grillby’s brow due to the mask, and the elemental’s mouth was so firmly shut Sans couldn’t even see the line of where it was supposed to be.

“u-uh…” Sans swallowed, new sweat beading on his skull. “is this...a-about my tab or somethin’...?” The bartender’s head inclined slightly. “aw, c’mon man! you know i’m good for it! i’m your best customer!”

Grillby took a step forward. Sans shuddered. “l-look, i’ll pay it off, i swear, man. i-i know i can be a bit hard to pin down, b-but you don’t need to go through all this just to get my attention.” Sans put on the best approximation of a grin he could manage. “heh, i never took you for the type to be so hot hea—“

_CRACK_

Grillby’s flaming palm met Sans’ face with an alarmingly loud smack. The skeleton was too shocked to even cry out. He simply hung there dumbly, staring at the elemental in total confusion.

The bartender placed his hands in his pockets and calmly waited. After several moments, Sans recollected his thoughts.

“g-grillby?” he whispered. “what’s...what’s goin’ on, pal?”

Grillby stepped forward again, looming over Sans’ limply hanging body. If the entire room hadn’t been filled with glowing flames, he would have cast a shadow over the small skeleton.

“grillby...please, tell me what’s going on, i…” Sans gulped loudly, shuddering hard enough to set the chains rattling. “is...i-is someone making you do this? i’m not m-much good in a fight, but...i can…”

A fiery hand lifted again, and Sans flinched, preparing for another strike. But it didn’t land. Instead the hand cupped his cheek, caressing him softly.

“u-uuuh…” Sans stammered, at a total loss for words. Instinctively he leaned away from the touch, but Grillby only leaned in closer, filling his vision with the masked face of the elemental. The colors flickering in his eyes through the mask were bright and dazzling, unlike anything Sans had seen in them before.

And _hot_. Oh god...he knew the room was on fire, but why did he feel so much hotter all of a sudden? It was almost as if…

Sans saw the new flames and jolted. “wh—fire, FIRE! grillby, i’m on fire, help!” He yelled and flailed wildly in the chains as his clothes were quickly consumed by the fire.

It wasn’t until the burnt-up scraps began to fall off his bones onto the floor that Sans realized the fire wasn’t actually burning him. It must have been Grillby’s magic.

The bartender could shake hands with monsters or serve them food which had just been broiled by his fire, while none of them ever suffered any burns. Apparently that was just some property of his flames, though Sans had never given it much thought before. At least in part because he had never before had to worry about being burned by Grillby.

“ghhhhh...a-a bit of a close call there, eh g-grillbz?” Sans chuckled nervously, as the last scraps of his clothing crumbled to a pile of ash on the floor. He had no idea why he was joking. His oldest friend had been replaced with a psychopath in a mask, and all he could do was scream and make lame jokes.

Warm, dry fingers looped into each of Sans’ pubic arches, and his grin froze. No. No no, he couldn’t be touching _there_ . Grillby couldn’t _possibly_ —

“nnngh!” Sans grunted. The fingers tugged his pelvis upward, and a free thumb rubbed circles directly against his pubic symphysis.

Sans winced, bracing himself for more pain, but none came. The touch was _so_ gentle, almost loving, even. A warm wave of pleasure rolled through his bones, and he felt himself go slack in the chains. Grillby continued to stroke his face with his other hand, as though comforting the Sans even as he violated him. “oooooooh god...fuck...w-why? grillby, why?! why are you doing this to m-mmmmeeee…”

After a long moan, a bright blue cock manifested right in front of Grillby, full-masted and glowing brilliantly. The bartender grabbed the cock at the base and Sans cried out in alarm, expecting pain from the elemental’s fiery, unlubricated grip.

But again, the pain never came. The grip was firm and very warm, but not quite burning, and it didn’t have the solid roughness of unlubricated skin. It was almost like being gripped by a hot column of air.

Grillby gave his cock several hard strokes, each time raising the temperature of his flames, going from comfortably warm to almost scalding. “nnnnagh, oooh, aah...nnnstop! grillby stop, please, it hurts!”

The pressure and heat of the tugging became unbearable. It felt like he was being tugged off by hellfire, the heat lingering and building within his cock, but not blistering or burning the skin to the magic properties of the fire.

And then he stopped. Grillby let go of Sans completely, stepping back as the skeleton shook and caught his breath, swinging gently in the chains.

Tears pricked in his eye sockets as Sans began to weep softly. “g-grillby _why_...c’mon pal what...w-what happened?”

As Sans broke down, he didn’t notice the elemental reaching into his pockets, palming several small objects which he then held up above the weeping skeleton. He cut off the sobs with a sudden rain of melted wax.

“aaaaagh!” Sans shrieked, left eye flashing for a second as the searing droplets flowed down his ribs and spine, until they settled and cooled seconds later. He stared in horror at his torso, now mottled with bright red wax that looked eerily like blood. “o-o-oh god...grillby, _please_ stop, w-we can work something out, c-can’t we? i-i promise i won’t tell, j-just let me go and—nnngh!”

More wax rained down, this time a more deliberate drizzle following the path of his spine, from just below his exposed SOUL all the way down to his pelvis. Sans yelped and bucked hard, but reined in the movement just at the last moment, attempting to keep his cock out of range. Strangely, in spite of his stress and fear, he was still extremely aroused. In fact, a few beads of precum now dribbled down the tip of his shaft, the blue droplets glittering in stark contrast to the angry red wax.

The masked elemental continued for some time, silently melting chunks of wax in his palm, then showering the sizzling liquid onto his suspended, screaming victim. Sans attempted to negotiate for a while longer, and when that didn’t work tried cursing and threatening. But he never actually manifested an attack, fearing the unknown consequences of doing so even more than the wax. He then dissolved into pleading and begging between his broken sobs. His masked, mute torturer ignored all of this, producing a seemingly endless supply of wax, alternating between concentrated, excruciating deluges and erratic, stinging drizzles.

When Sans’ bones were almost completely red from head to toe, Grillby finally stopped. He stood stoically for several moments, waiting for Sans to become aware and coherent again.

“g...g-grillbz?” the skeleton whimpered, sniffling and blinking away tears as he tried to raise his head to meet the elemental’s eyes. He searched for any sign of his old friend in those hollow, burning eyes. They were the same shape even behind the mask, even had almost the same color, or so it seemed through his teary eyes. But the warmth—the genuine, SOUL-deep warmth—was gone. Nothing of the patient, intuitive, kind fire monster Sans had known for all those years was in the creature before him. The elemental’s stance radiated only detached impassivity. It was the same look he gave his food and drinks as he prepared them for his waiting customers.

“p-please...i’ll p-pay you back i pr...promise…” Sans stammered around a hiccup.

The elemental stepped forward, brandishing two new items from the depth of his pockets. One was a very large chunk of wax, larger than any others Sans had seen—or had been able to see in the moments he’d dared to look. The other was a plain piece of paper, written through on both sides.

Before Sans could guess what the paper was, Grillby held the wax directly over his still-erect cock.

“wha—no! grillby no, _please!_ ” Sans shook his head and struggled hard in the chains, only managing to swing himself around erratically. “a-anywhere but there! i’ll do anything, _anything!_ I’ll pay you back tenfold, no, twenty! Just gimme time, please, _please,_ pl— _aaaaAAAAAAH!”_

Grillby formed a funnel with his hand, melting the wax very slowly, guiding the flow to the base of Sans’ shaft. The skeleton screamed and flailed, but Grillby tracked his movements, meticulously building a tower of wax around the twitching member, as though he was piping a blue cake with bright red frosting.

Sans was sure he was going to die. There was no way he could withstand this, it was going to take his 1 HP and he would turn to dust. His cock felt as though it was being slowly dipped in a vat of lava. And it _wouldn’t stop._ The wax kept building and building, slowly imprison his cock, still scorching and burning the sensitive, throbbing organ even as it cooled.

Finally the wax reached the head, and Sans felt a twinge bolt through his cock and SOUL. _Fuck,_ he was about to come! Sans sobbed even harder, from vexation as well as pain. He thrust his hips in the air, shamelessly trying to find _some_ kind of satisfaction in the middle of this insane, agonizing hell.

But he didn’t come. He _couldn’t_ , actually, not with the hard wax seal which plugged his urethra. He gasped in short, shallow pants. Sans could feel his cock bulging and shuddering inside its wax sarcophagus, but the hardened shell wouldn’t budge. He was trapped on the edge of release, unable to achieve his climax even as the tight squeeze against his cock grew tighter as it cooled, steadily driving him higher and higher.

“nnngh...aaaaaah...ooooh _fuck_ …” he hissed, unable to summon any more screams from his dry, strained throat.

Just before the wax on the head of his cock dried, Grillby delicately draped the paper over it, facing the writing on it toward Sans. He then pressed it into the with a finger, sealing it to the wax. Sans forced his eyes to focus, and he realized the paper was a copy of his tab. He groaned, then let his head fall back to hang limply in the chains. Not unconscious, but completely and utterly defeated.

Grillby silently removed his mask, rolled down his sleeves, fastened his cufflinks, and tied his bow tie before approaching the door just out of Sans’ view. He hooked a finger around one of the chains as he walked by, pulling on it and releasing to send his his victim swinging in the chains. They rattled with an almost musical sound. The bartender then grabbed his vest and apron hanging by the door, put the mask on the hook in its place, and stepped out into the dining area to open his bar.


	2. Taste Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby has made an "arrangement" with Sans to pay off his debt. But first he has to go through some training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so nobody really asked for this, and I really should be working on the next chapter of Rose (which I AM working on, just currently stuck in a section of lots of description and exposition, bleh). So in the meantime I went and indulged myself and made this. Because damn it I haven't had enough of dom!Grillby. SO HERE WE GO.

Sans had once read a history book that discussed human executions through the ages, and how dramatic they always seemed to be. Sometimes the condemned had to climb a cursed number of stairs, or carry the device which would eventually be used to kill them to the execution site. Sometimes there were drums or bells which counted down the moments they had left to live. Nearly every country and culture had a unique way of making their executions as cruel and psychologically agonizing as possible.

The grim details of that book came to him as he followed Grillby up the stairs to the bartender’s apartment after all of the other patrons had left. In that moment, Sans thought he might just finally understand how those poor human SOULs felt, even if he didn’t understand the motivation behind making them suffer that much more when they were about to die anyway. The only thing to light their way was the flames of Grillby’s body, like the torches of angry townsfolk as they demanded someone’s head. Each step on the burnished wood seemed to echo in his skull like a distant bell, marking the last seconds until his demise. His throat tightened as they climbed the stairs, and he actually wondered if he’d find a noose when they got to the top.

There was none, nor were there any actual bells or drums. It was simply a plain landing, with several ordinary doors all around the hallway. Grillby unlocked a one of them, then indicated for Sans to enter first. With the elemental standing outside, the room looked like an empty, black void.

But he had no choice. This had been their arrangement. After some very one-sided negotiations, where Grillby slowly melted the wax from his punishment and explained his terms while Sans dangled helplessly from the chains in his back room, Sans had agreed to return to the bar that night after hours for some “training.” The agreement was simple: He would sell sessions with Sans to monsters who had very unorthodox tastes in order to pay off Sans’s considerable debt. With a certain amount deducted for Grillby, of course. In exchange, Grillby would forgive Sans’ debt when the amount was paid in full. That way, Sans would never have to deal with the conniving loan sharks who thrived in the underbelly of the Underground—literal, actual sharks who had taken over the short-term loan market, who always found ways to screw their customers and take everything they owned.

And, more importantly to Sans, Papyrus would never have to know how deep their money troubles actually ran.

He had also been warned to not go to the Royal Guard or even the king about it. While Grillby didn’t explain why, he assured Sans that none of them would find anything no matter how much they looked. And Sans was inclined to believe it. Grillby was pragmatic and methodical in everything he did. On top of that, he was older than the barrier and had a spotless reputation with everyone in the Underground, up to the king himself. There was no way Sans would recover if he just threw around accusations like that.

So he agreed. And now the door shut behind him, like the final nail driving into his coffin. The lock wasn’t even latched, but Sans knew he was trapped, sure as if he was bound up with chains once more.

Grillby didn’t bother turning on any lights, apparently satisfied with the ambient light his body gave off. The room was small fairly plain as far as Sans could see. Drab wood floors, a few sparse decorations on the walls, a small dresser, and a bed with a deep crimson quilt on top, with a rug at the foot. Definitely not the master bedroom, but serviceable as a guest room.

“Strip.”

Sans jumped. Grillby spoke very little at the best of times, and when he did he was neutral and soft-spoken, not giving much indication of his feelings one way or another. However that single word he’d uttered was unambiguous in its intent: Commanding. Dominating. Threatening.

Sans nodded once, shakily removing his layers. First his jacket, then his white shirt underneath. He gingerly stepped out of his slippers, then after a small hesitation, his shorts came down as well. The whole time Grillby watched, arms crossed, silently leering. The elemental had taken a few things off after closing up the bar—he was down to his black pants, his white button-down shirt, and his vest and tie which were both undone. Though at the moment he did not remove anything else, seeming content to watch as the skeleton stripped.

At the end Sans had an armful of garments he unconsciously held in front of them, unsure of what to do next. “u-uh...where do i…?”

“Leave those. Speak only when necessary.”

Sans couldn’t decide if he felt like a child being scolded, or an animal being lead to slaughter. He nodded and dropped the clothes, leaving him completely naked and exposed.

Grillby didn’t say anything more. He moved to sit on the end of the bed, pointing to the rug in front of him. Sans nodded and approached. The mattress of the bed was actually quite tall, placing Grillby high enough that Sans’ eye level was just about where his hips were. The bartender seemed satisfied with how he lined up in front of him. Or at least, Sans assumed so by the lack of correction. Usually he was extremely good at reading Grillby’s almost nonexistent expressions, but he was seeing so many emotions he’d never seen on the man before, he was questioning all of the signals coming from him.

Grillby gestured to his crotch, palm-open. _getting straight to it huh_ , Sans thought nervously. At least that was familiar. His hands moved forward, then hesitated, then shakily reached up and unbuttoned the fly of the pants.

When he reached for the zipper, Grillby shook his head. “Mm-mmm.” Sans looked up, confused. “No hands.”

Smoldering eyes locked with confused sockets for a long moment. Then Sans looked away. _oh_. He lowered his hands, then just before he leaned forward, he noticed the zipper wasn’t even visible. The hem that covered the fly was folded over it. He considered his options. He could possibly grab the cloth with his teeth and pull it aside, but that probably wouldn’t work, as there was a chance it would just fold back over as soon as he let go to grab the zipper. Which left only one reasonable choice.

Sans opened his mouth, summoning his bright, sapphire tongue then leaned in between Grillby’s legs, burrowing his mouth between the layers of cloth. The first thing he noticed was how _warm_ it felt. Unnervingly so. It was impossible to ignore the fact that his teeth were extremely close to something _alive_ , and that he would soon meet it face to face.

He closed his eyes to concentrate. The cloth wasn’t rough, it was actually quite soft and silky. Apparently the pants were as fine as they looked, despite the presumably messy conditions of working in a bar. After some digging, Sans felt the track of the zipper, then followed it up to the top where the tiny mechanism was, easily pushing aside the cloth which hid it. To grab the zip with his teeth, he had to push his face directly against Grillby’s warm bulge. It wasn’t as hot as he’d expected. It actually felt quite nice, like pressing his face into warm laundry fresh out of the dryer. Except it didn’t smell like Papyrus’ favorite brand of fabric softener...more like a furnace—earthy and warm with some deeper, muskier notes mixed in. There was also just a spark of magic on the finish, giving it a spicy bite which, completely against his will, caused Sans to salivate. He swallowed heavily, then quickly grabbed the zip between his teeth, trying not to think about what _that_ meant.

The long, lewd pull of the zipper cut the silence of the room like a knife. When it wouldn’t move down any further, Sans opened his eyes.

Grillby’s cock sat before him, coiled up and glowing like a bed of quietly smouldering coals. Far from a blazing inferno, but ready to ignite the moment it was stoked. Sans gaped with trepidation, sweat visibly gathering on his brow. So apparently Grillby didn’t wear underwear...he wasn’t sure if he was relieved that meant one fewer step, or afraid that Grillby had apparently been preparing for this moment since he’d dressed in the morning. He knew exactly what Grillby wanted now, but he hadn’t the foggiest idea of how to start.

The elemental moved, and Sans flinched, hard. But he merely set a warm hand a the back of Sans’ head, gently cradling his skull. Sans dared to meet his eyes, responding hopefully to the deceptively tender gesture. “wh-what...do i…do you…?” he quietly stammered, hoping it didn’t count as a breach of his vow of silence. But surely _now_ was the time to ask questions…?

“Ask first.” Grillby rumbled.

Ask? Like, for permission? Sans was confused. Why should he have to ask permission for something he had no choice in, anyway? “m...may i…?” he began, leaving the end of the question hanging, hoping that was enough.

Grillby crackled impatiently. “Say it,” he commanded. His voice was low, but the authority it held was unquestionable.

So, this was a power play. Sans’ SOUL sank, shocked it was possible for him to feel any lower. This domineering monster had absolutely nothing in common with the kind, genial friend who had served him drinks and patiently listened to his drunken ramblings for the last decade. “may i...i…” Sans squeezed his eyes shut, speaking through his teeth. “may i...suck your...cock.”

“Look at me.”

Sans flinched. His was caught in Grillby’s unwavering gaze. How was it possible for the eyes of a fire monster to look so cold? “...may i suck your cock?”

“Sir.”

He flinched again. “...sir.”

The hand on the back of his head heated up slightly. The warning was clear.

“m-may i suck your cock, sir?” the skeleton quickly recited.

“Yes,” Grillby said lightly, leaning back and shifting his pelvis forward, but not releasing the skeleton’s head.

Sans gritted his teeth. Oh god, this was really happening, wasn’t it? His mind raced. He realized he was not going to be able to get that dick out of the pants with just his mouth. He slipped a few fingers underneath Grillby’s cock at the base. There was no correction, and Sans was almost relieved he’d finally done something right. With how it glowed and flickered like fire, he almost expected his hand to go straight through it, but the organ was just solid as his own cock when it was fully manifested. He pulled up slightly, until the bulbous head sprang free of the cloth of the pants. Then he set it back down, gently guiding it to hang freely on the edge of the bed. Even completely flaccid the length and girth were considerable, and Sans vaguely wondered how he was going to fit it all...in.

His mouth opened, his tongue sat at the edge of his teeth, and he leaned forward. Then he paused. How was he supposed to...begin? Surely he wasn’t supposed to take it all in while it was limp like that? He was certain that wasn’t how it worked.

Grillby’s voice cut through his confusion. “Use your tongue. Start at the tip.” He leveled his gaze at Sans, the next words sounding like a growl. “No teeth.”

Sans nodded, fighting the impulse to swallow as he realized he might need that saliva very soon. Or...would he? Wouldn’t getting it wet hurt Grillby? Would it hurt _him_? Sans hadn’t ever even been burned by Grillby’s _cooking_ before, much less his body. Well...except for that one time when he had intended it.

It was too late to worry now. He brought out his tongue, then leaned in and gave the head of the luminous cock a single, tentative lick. No reaction. Silently cursing, Sans went in for a slightly more vigorous lick, making a quick circle around the head before withdrawing.

The fingers on the back of his skull drummed impatiently. Shit...this was going to be difficult without lips. If Sans worked his magic right, he could coat the inside of his skull with some pseudo-skin that would feel like the inside of a mouth. He closed his eyes, scooping the head up with his tongue to bring it into his mouth, focusing on how he wanted the inside to feel.

“Eyes open.”

His sockets flashed open just as his magical mouth closed around the tip. Oh god, he was actually doing this. As Grillby had instructed, he moved his tongue around the tip, first working the bottom of the head, then moving around the side to make a few circles all the way around it. Still Grillby didn’t even twitch. After a few more circles this way and that, Sans rubbed the front of his tongue against the front of the head, right where the urethra was. He heard a grunt from above, but nothing happened to indicate he’d done something wrong.

The cock in his mouth then shifted of its own accord, and Sans almost pulled out in surprise. Apparently that _had_ been the right thing to do. The head in his mouth became warmer and the shaft slightly stiffened, and Sans took that as a sign to go deeper. He opened his mouth wide, then ran his tongue around the entire shaft as far as he could reach, coating it all the way around with saliva. Grillby’s hips twitched forward. Another correct move.

Once the member was thickly coated, Sans leaned in to take it up to where he’d licked, making sure to not catch his teeth as it entered. The cock was half-masted, but Sans only ended up only taking about half of it in. He could have sworn he’d licked farther down than that. At this point, the head was close to the back of Sans’ head where his throat would start. Already Sans wondered just how much he was going to be able to take. If it grew much more, it might not be able to fit in his mouth, at least not if he didn’t manifest a throat, too.

Sans worked the shaft the same way he worked the head, running his tongue around it in circles, working the tip for a few seconds, then returning to the middle. He even managed to actually suck a little bit. Only gently, but Grillby’s hips rolled forward again and the cock grew even warmer. It felt like a freshly cooked water sausage in his mouth now—not hot enough to burn, but definitely hotter than any cock had the right to be. At least...he assumed so, given his lack of experience with such things.

Sans heard a long sigh that sounded like a simmering pot coming to a boil, and the fingers on the back of his skull tightened. The cock swelled even larger, forcing Sans to instantly make a throat, just barely remembering to not form anything that might give him a gag reflex.

Without any warning, Grillby pulled Sans’ head forward, making the skeleton grunt and splutter as he struggled to make room for the massive cock plunging down his throat.

“Swallow,” Grillby whispered darkly. Apparently he was losing patience. Sans did as instructed, and the cock finally found a place down the back of his throat, situated in such a way that just barely allowed him to breathe through his nose—not that he actually needed to, but the action felt normal, unlike the rest of what was happening to him.

Sans hardly had a chance to marvel at his “accomplishment” before Grillby let go of his skull and leaned back on his hands. “Go.”

This time, Sans was almost certain he knew what Grillby wanted. He’d seen this part in part in a dirty human movie he’d found in the garbage once. He pulled his head back, until the tip was just barely inside his mouth, then slowly took it all back in. He did this a few times to get used to the motion, taking care to not catch it with his teeth in either direction. Once he was comfortable with that he picked up the pace, fucking Grillby’s cock with his mouth at a respectable clip, unable to suppress a few small slurps and grunts of effort. Grillby made no comment on the noises, and Sans thought that must be alright.

That gave him an idea. He tried making small humming noises for a few thrusts like the woman in the movie, just to see what kind of reaction he’d get. “mmm, nnnnmm, mmmph, mmmmnn...” Grillby actually sighed and rolled his hips forward. A good idea, then.

Not long after, Grillby twinged, but this time clearly from pain. “Teeth,” he muttered, looking annoyed. Sans winced, opening his mouth a bit wider and sticking his tongue out to cushion the shaft as it rode over his teeth.

Despite the slip up, Sans actually believed he was getting the hang of this. And he almost dared to be happy about it. At the very least it meant this might be over soon. Grillby was gently rocking his hips to meet his mouth, taking him as deep as he could with each stroke, forcing the skeleton’s chin to meet his sack. That gave Sans another idea. The next time he hilted, he paused and slipped his tongue under the shaft, stretching as far as he could until he met Grillby’s testicles, caressing them with a series of quick, teasing flicks before pulling back again. They were somehow hotter than the cock itself, and Sans almost expected to hear a hiss of steam as his saliva met the smoldering sack.

Grillby lurched, making a sound unlike anything Sans had heard so far. The cock inside his mouth twitched hard and he almost choked. Two hands suddenly gripped the sides of Sans’ skull, pulling him back off with a gasping, wet slurp. Sans froze, afraid he’d done something wrong, when the hands forcefully shoved his skull back down onto the cock with a startled gurgle.

Grillby brutally fucked Sans’ face, taking him in long, violent strokes, ignoring the muffled gags and whimpers of the skeleton. God this was starting to hurt...Grillby was whipping his head back and forth so fast it was making him dizzy. He shut his eyes to try and keep his orientation.

“Eyes...open…” the bartender ordered around a groan. Sans cracked his lids, glancing up to see the elemental’s eyes burning directly into his. He looked like a predator leering down at his prey, gazing with an insatiable lust and...hunger. He _enjoyed_ seeing Sans this way, throat deep on his cock, following his every order, helpless to stop him. That feeling was as important to his enjoyment as the pressure building in his cock, causing it to swell and leak precum into Sans’ already dripping, salivating mouth.

Grillby’s cock shuddered in Sans’ mouth, and the heat surged to nearly scalding.

“mmmph!” Sans cried in alarm, struggling in earnest against Grillby’s grip for the first time. This was bad, it was too hot, it was going to burn him—

Grillby pushed him completely off of the cock and let go of his head, then began tugging himself off with long, hard strokes. “Open,” he breathed, leaning forward as he took aim. Sans trembled. He opened his mouth, tilting his neck up  and holding his tongue out slightly.

“Nnn...hhhhn... _aaaah…_ ” Grillby came with a few low, masculine moans, never breaking eye contact with Sans. The skeleton’s sockets widened and twitched, tears gathering in the corners. But he valiantly kept them open, never blinking, waiting for the inevitable. He didn’t have to be told once to keep watching, or open his mouth wider as it quickly filled. He was beginning to learn.

Grillby’s cum was bright orange like lava and felt almost as hot, burning and tingling as it poured into Sans’ open mouth, glowing and visibly steaming. Sans knew spitting was _not_ an option, so his first impulse was to swallow it as quickly as possible to relieve the burning, but he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do, either. Or if it was, if he even _could_. He chose to wait, allowing it to pool up in his mouth, tilting his head up higher to hold just a bit more, forcing him to hold his breath. Even that wasn’t enough and it spilled over, trailing down his chin and mixing with his saliva to dribble off his tongue in long, sticky strands. He flinched as he felt the sting of the runoff trickle onto his ribs, causing yet more to spill out as a result.

At last Grillby finished, letting go of his cock with one more deep sigh of satisfaction, then leaning forward to get a closer look at Sans’ face. Sans almost expected some kind of rebuke for making such a mess, but while the look on Grillby’s demeanor remained ominous, he made no indication the skeleton had done wrong. On the contrary, his glowing face slowly split into a dark grin.

“Lovely. Now, swallow.”

Sans’ throat made a loud, wet glug, draining some of the release down his gullet, but but it took two more chugs to fully consume what was in his mouth. Even then he could still feel the elemental’s seed coating his entire mouth and tongue, sizzling and tingling like he’d just eaten something spicy. And even worse, swallowing forced him to finally taste the cum—it was salty, savory and just a touch smoky, almost like a mild cooking oil. Finding out it was not unpleasant was somehow worse than the dread of it being bad. When Grillby used two of his fingers to wipe up the excess on his face, Sans wasn’t disappointed when the elemental held the fingers in front of his face. He took the fingers into his mouth and sucked greedily. Fuck, this was so unfair...why did it have to taste so _good_...and somewhat familiar…? He tried to ignore that last thought.

Grillby allowed Sans to suck on his fingers for a little longer than was necessary to clean them off. When he pulled them out, Sans was almost a little bereft, then he felt a profound sense of relief.

“What do you say?” Grillby asked expectantly as he stood.

“uh...t-thank you, sir.”

At last, it was over. Grillby was satisfied. Papyrus should still be in bed, he could go back and get cleaned up and—

Grillby pointed a finger. “On the bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOH you’re not out of the fire yet, Sans~ You really thought Grillby was going to be happy with just a BJ? AW HELL NAW. What kind of cook would he be if he didn’t fully sample his new product before serving it to his customers?
> 
> I’ve kind of pilfered the idea from Queenofsintale that Grillby’s got some hella stamina. Especially when he’s with someone who shows so much...potential. Sans got a bit creative a couple of times there, and don’t think for a second Grillby missed that. He’s still got one more place he wants to break him in, though...


	3. Pound until Tender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby isn't finished breaking Sans in just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hhhh okay I couldn't wait, here's the rest. I'm so proud of these chapter names.

Sans froze. Slowly his hands moved to his chest. “b...but…”

Grillby snapped his fingers, and instantly Sans felt as though he was standing on hot coals. “wha—aaaaah!” He hopped from foot to foot, then took a flying leap onto the bed as though it was a pool of water to quell the fire scorching his toes.

As suddenly as the feeling had come, it disappeared. Sans rolled onto his back and immediately sat up, moving backward with his hands and feet, not taking his eyes off his assailant for a second.

“Don’t move.”

Sans’ mind caught between obeying his instincts to run and his fear of being burned again. He settled on fear.

Grillby did nothing to acknowledge his obedience, only finished taking off his own shirt and pants and throwing them aside before getting onto the bed as well. He approached like a spider honing in on prey caught hopelessly in his web. He loomed directly over Sans, then put a hand on the skeleton’s sternum, pushing until he was forced flat on his back again.

Before Sans could raise his head to see what was happening, warm, dry fingers looped into each of his pubic arches and pulled him forward across the sheets, then quickly started massaging his pubic symphisis.

“ghk!” he gasped, unable to hold back the memories that attacked him out of nowhere—the sweltering heat of fire, the jangle of chains, burn of sizzling wax. This was exactly how Grillby had touched him before, when he tortured him in his back room. “n-no, please, not again!” he cried, struggling and blindly kicking out. “grillby, please, don’t do this! don’t—”

_CRACK_

The slap hit Sans like a bucket of cold water to the face, but it left a lingering burn on his cheek that felt like he’d been whipped by the devil himself. When he opened his eyes, Grillby’s furiously crackling face burned above him.

“Be still,” he hissed coldly. Fingers brushed his pelvis again, tracing down from the top of his iliac crest, moving down to his ischium, then back up to his pubic symphisis again. Sans whimpered, going limp as he accepted what was about to happen.

The deceitfully gentle massage worked Sans up a lot faster than he wanted to admit. God Grillby was so good at this...had he ever been with a skeleton before? He must have to know exactly where to go and when to switch to someplace else. He made a figure eight around the pubic arches and pubis, pushing just a little harder each time he crossed the pubic symphisis, causing Sans’ breath to catch in his throat. Finally with a free hand he gently reached through the pelvic girdle and gave the sacram a firm caress, and Sans nearly lifted off the mattress. His pelvis started to glow and spark with tendrils of cerulean magic, and Grillby’s ministrations intensified.

“Make a pussy,” he ordered, calmly.

Sans was almost too distracted to hear. Grillby had to slow his fingers and repeat the command just before a deep blue pussy bloomed to cover his pelvic girdle. It took a bit of effort—Sans wasn’t used to summoning openings. He usually went with a cock because it was much easier to bring himself satisfaction with it. Once the magic formed he had to stop and catch his breath a moment, blearily wondering how Grillby even knew he could do both.

Before he could think of an answer, the elemental grabbed the skeleton’s ankles and dove face-first into the freshly summoned pussy, forcing a cry of alarm out of Sans. It was immediately followed by a deep moan of pleasure. Oh, _fuck_ , Grillby’s tongue was...wow. Sans could not form proper words to even think about what Grillby was doing to him down there. It was definitely solid, not simply a tongue of pure flame as he’d speculated. It flexed and moved exactly like a tongue should. It wasn’t wet, but it also wasn’t dry, aggressively parting his labia and diving into his passage with practiced ease, performing oral acrobatics in his pussy that Sans thought a frog monster would have trouble pulling off. He twisted to lap at his labia, he effortlessly found and teased his clitoris...the tongue seemed to grow larger as it delved deep to warmly caress his innermost folds, prodding all the way down to his g-spot to earn some particularly loud shrieks of pleasure. Hot sparks emitted from the elemental’s mouth as he breathed, tickling Sans’ labia majora and snapping dangerously close to his blooming, pulsing clitoris.

“Eyes open…” a voice commanded distantly.

Sans’ eyesockets cracked open, but they only gazed sightlessly at the ceiling, completely occupied with the wildfire burning through his SOUL. “ooooh...oooohhffuuuu—aaaahhhnn...mmmmnnn…” Incoherent moans and half-formed curses streamed from Sans’ mouth, overwhelmed by the powerful new sensations assailing his pussy, driving him absolutely senseless. He writhed in helpless bliss, pulling at the sheets and tossing his head from side to side. So consumed by his gratification, Sans didn’t notice the bartender playing with himself, quickly working his erection back to its full height.

Just as Sans’ body began to seize up with the beginnings of a climax, Grillby pulled out. The skeleton to audibly whined in disappointment.

Grillby must have heard, because a flaming hand seized his skull by the chin, forcing Sans to look the bartender in the face.

“Ask me before you come. Understand?” His voice was still low and even. He hadn’t once raised it since they’d started.

“y...yes…” the shaking skeleton whispered.

“Yes what?”

Sans swallowed. “...yes sir.”

Grillby let go of his chin and shifted to his knees. He grabbed Sans by the shoulder and effortlessly flipped him onto his front. Before Sans knew what was going on, the bartender grabbed his pelvis, and pulled his entire torso into the air until his knees and elbows caught beneath him. Grillby’s hot, wet cock pressed hard against his dripping, sensitive pussy.

“nnnngh...oh _fuck_ …” Sans swore, unable to stop a lascivious groan. Grillby did not enter slowly, nor did he give Sans any time to adjust to his considerable size and length, taking all of him with one blunt thrust. He was so _hot_ , Sans squirmed uncomfortably, sure his magical skin would burn if he remained inside him too long. Grillby started moving, but it didn’t relieve the scorching heat so much as spread it deep along all his walls. The elemental took him in long, hard thrusts, roughly pulling their hips together though he didn’t expect Sans to do any of the work himself. Or maybe he just didn’t _want_ him to.

Once Grillby felt he’d been broken in, he switched to a shorter, faster clip, not completely pulling out but moving much faster. The wet, loud slap of their magical bodies rang out through the room, despite the waves of dry, feverish heat pouring off the elemental, soaking through Sans’ pussy, clawing through his bones like an out of control blaze threatening to burn him alive, pulling desperate pleas and moans from his mouth. The all-consuming heat bit and stung, but every time just before it became unbearable, a wave of pleasure washed through his bones to chase away the pain, leaving Sans with the rush of endorphins from narrowly escaping peril. He was trapped on a rollercoaster of bliss and panic, his instincts to escape danger warring with his instincts to keep riding the divine cock devouring his pussy in the best possible way. He _wanted_ this, he realized, crying out with hatred toward himself at the thought. He wanted this cock to come inside him, let it fill him up until his own SOUL sang with sweet release...

“mmmmmnnn…” Sans moaned, so loudly he actually started himself out of his thoughts. He put a hand over his mouth and buried his face in the sheets. No, no, no...he couldn’t come, not so soon. Maybe if he stopped making sounds that would help...

But Grillby wouldn’t have that. His next few thrusts were like a punishment for trying to stifle his moans, slamming Sans so hard it sent the bed bouncing and caused him to squeal in pain and alarm. Grillby then hilted, leaned over Sans to grab both of his arms and wrench them behind his back, and leaned back to pulled him up until Sans was forced onto his knees, sitting back on Grillby’s cock which now impaled him deeper than ever.

“aaah! n-no, don’t!” Sans cried, unsure what he was even asking for. The bartender ignored him, rocking his hips until the spring of the mattress set them moving again. Gravity did the rest of the work, forcing Sans to bounce up and down the entire length of the cock, unable to shift to a less intense angle or change the speed as his wrists remained caught behind him.

After a few instinctive struggles, Sans gave up and allowed himself to be taken, instead focusing his thoughts on on bouncing in time with Grillby’s relentless thrusts. It didn’t take long for pleasure to eclipse pain once more, and he found this position even better than being on all fours. He was so _full_...Grillby’s cock bottomed out at the end of the ectoflesh passage his body had formed, and his magic slowly shifted to accommodate him, walls expanding and thickening to make the size and heat a bit more manageable.

As his pussy adjusted to something tailor-made for Grillby’s cock, Sans began to work up to a climax again, breathless moans and pleas escaping him, now unchecked as he couldn’t cover his mouth. Grillby, on the other hand, remained completely silent, savoring the helpless cries of the skeleton, the obscene noise of their violent lovemaking, and the straining squeaks of the metal springs in the mattress. He found other ways to express his passion, however, shifting his hands so that only one firmly held Sans’ wrists together, using the other to rake his fiery fingers through Sans’ ribs, stroking his spine and teasing it with small sparks of and lapping tongues of flame. He even gently grabbed the skeleton’s throat, stifling his air supply just enough warm pressure to bring back that rush of danger that he knew drove Sans crazy.

A violent pulse of warning struck his pussy, and Sans jolted, wrenching against the bartender’s strong, binding hands. “oooh, aaaaah, aaahn—!” He abandoned all of his pride, focusing hard to form the proper words to bring himself relief. “i...i’m gonna come! p-please, can i…?”

“No.” Grillby growled, not slowing his ruthless pace one bit. “After me.” Sans whined petulantly, shuddering and struggling hard in Grillby’s grip. Not fighting to get loose, but fighting the urgent, aching torrent of need in his pussy. He couldn’t, he _couldn’t_...but fuck he needed this so _bad..._ he couldn’t escape, couldn’t get away...think of the punishment, the fire, the wax, what would happen if he failed...

After a long, tense moment where he had no clue what was going to happen, Sans’ rigid bones suddenly relaxed. The burning need subsided, but with a whisper of a promise that it would be back in full force very, _very_ soon.

Wow...he’d done it. He wasn’t sure if he could ever do it again, but he actually stopped himself from coming! Sans didn’t think he’d ever exercised that much self-control in his life. He almost grinned as he arched his back again, taking Grillby’s cock more confidently than before, focused wholly on bringing the bartender to his climax as quickly as possible.

“Mmm...good boy…” Grillby rumbled. Sans felt himself flush from the praise. “Ask properly, next time...”

Of course, he’d forgotten to say “sir.” Before Sans could feel bad about missing an instruction, a moan tore through his chest as he rode out a particularly gratifying thrust. Why...why did this feel so good?! Was it just self-defense, because he had no choice anyway? But if that was the case, why did Grillby’s praise _mean_ anything to him? He was an old friend turned torturer, now rapist, soon to be...pimp? He was going to sell Sans to the highest bidder, making him give up his body to pay off his debt. So why did Sans give a shit whether he was doing a good job or not?

He just wanted things to go back to the way they were. He wanted Grillby to stop and pretend it was all just a horrible joke. He wanted to be back in the bar, warming himself from the refreshing heat blowing in from the kitchen, sipping at a fresh bottle of ketchup while he told bad jokes to the other patrons. And Grillby...Grillby would watch quietly from behind the bar, patiently listening and occasionally nodding or even chuckling when he thought no one was looking.

But Sans always saw. He always knew. Which was why he didn’t understand how that quiet, sensitive monster who he’d bourne his SOUL to time and time again could be this cruel, this callous, this…

Grillby’s breathing became loud and ragged, and his cock shuddered and grew even hotter. Oh god, this was it, wasn’t it? Sans stiffened, shutting his teary eyes and balling his fists tightly behind his back, waiting for the pain. With a long growl that sounded like the roar of a lava spout erupting in Hotland Grillby came, spearing Sans with his bursting cock to the hilt, shooting his steaming cum deep into the skeleton’s tight pussy.

“hhhaaaaaaaaagh!” Sans shrieked, struggling in the bartender’s grip again. Though he had tried to brace himself, he was still completely unprepared for the intense burn of the elemental’s blistering cum coating his sensitive inner folds, leaving him only able to scream and writhe helplessly.

Grillby’s wicked, burning hands held him so tight they threatened to scorch Sans’ wrists. Already his pussy was full, but Grillby’s climax showed no signs of stopping, releasing even more cum than his last orgasm. There was nowhere to run, nothing he could do to escape the fire—!

Sans’ magic reacted to disperse the pain as quickly as possible before he passed out. The back of his vaginal passage opened up, allowing Grillby’s cock to impale him all the way through to his chest cavity so that his cum to shot straight up into Sans’ ribcage.

The bartender didn’t mind this development at all. On the contrary, he rode out the rest of his orgasm in pure delight, watching his iridescent white-orange seed mottle and defile the skeleton’s intercostal spaces with wicked fascination. His SOUL in his core burned hot and bright with the unadulterated thrill of completely dominating another creature inside and out, wholly subjugating him with his strength and will. A perfect victim to satisfy his body’s most primal needs. He should fuck skeletons more often, Grillby thought darkly. They were so much fun to ruin. His mouth, his pussy, his bones...he wanted to ravage all of them. And the way he _screamed_...so much better than he’d even imagined.

And this little slut presumed to know Grillby so well, all of his innermost thoughts and feelings? Perhaps being covered in his seed from head to toe would help enlighten this innocent little monster.

Intense relief flooded through Sans as Grillby’s cock penetrated his chest cavity. While he could still feel the biting sting as his ribs were mottled with the sizzling cum, it didn’t burn the bone nearly as bad as his pussy. The reprieve was so immediate and satisfying that Sans felt a violent throb of pleasure pulse through him, desperately seeking the release he had denied himself before with a vengeance.

“hhhhaaagh!” He screamed, now a shriek of pure lust rather than agony. “sir! please, _please_ can i come?! please let me come, sir!”

“Come!” Grillby punctuated the word with a harsh thrust of his hips, forcing his release to spurt even higher into the skeleton, some even splattering out onto the sheets below them.

“ _aaaaahhhnnn!_ ” His entire body sized up as he came, pussy clamping onto Grillby’s cock with a vice grip, milking even more cum out of the nearly spent elemental. Sans didn’t think he’d ever come so hard in his life. Every bone in his body was bursting with magic and euphoric sensation, he was sure he saw colors at the edge of his vision. All sound stopped, his SOUL sang in his head and chest, sparkling so bright that it flickering cast shadows of his bones on the sheets and the walls of the room.

“Beautiful,” Grillby breathed, as his cock finally ceased its eruption. But that didn’t stop Sans’ pussy from continuing to seek more, drizzling his shaft with juices that stung his smoldering skin deliciously.

After what Grillby imagined to be close to a minute, Sans finally moved again, taking several shuddering breaths as his orgasm slowly faded. His pussy relaxed, and Grillby pulled out with a hissing squelch, gently releasing the wrists of the twitching, whimpering skeleton and letting him sink to his stomach.

Sans was absolutely spent. He would have happily passed out the moment he hit the mattress. But he wasn’t allowed even that as Grillby stuck two fingers into his throbbing, engorged pussy, scissoring him open to get a better look at his handiwork. Sans couldn’t see the steam rising from his pussy as the caustic, orange semen continued to drip and ooze out of him, messily coating all of his labia and clitoral hood, standing out distinct from his own blue release, the fluids refusing to mix with with one another just like oil and water. But Grillby saw it all, gazing long and hard with satisfaction, sniffing the burnt flesh briefly before letting out a soft, rolling chuckle.

Sans whined, unable to summon the strength to even shudder. “p...please...no more...sir…”

A cruel thumb plunged into his oversensitive pussy, and Sans yelped in alarm. “Wrong. What do you say?”

“t-thank you, sir!”

“Good boy.”

The thumb was removed, and Sans relaxed again as his pussy finally faded away, sighing softly as he gradually gave himself over to the sweet release of sleep. He didn’t care that he was naked and half-covered in stinging cum, lying face-first on someone else’s filthy sheets. He welcomed the cold, embrace of unconsciousness. He wasn’t even sure if he ever wanted to wake up. He just wanted to sleep...he just wanted to forget…

A warm hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly shoved him onto his back. Sans opened his bleary sockets to see Grillby, already back in his pants and buttoning his shirt.

“Get up.”

It wasn’t a request. Sans shakily sat up, groaning as the soreness of his battered bones was already settling in. His pelvis felt bruised, and he made a mental note to check it for microfractures later. Cum still dripped all over him and inside his chest cavity, making everywhere it touched feel raw and burned. Especially his mouth, which stung as though he’d attempted to chug a scalding hot drink. He wondered if his bones actually had scorch marks.

The process of getting off the bed and shuffling back into his clothes was painful and slow, but Grillby simply stood nonchalantly and watched the entire time, arms crossed. When Sans finally got his coat properly situated, he weakly looked up at Grillby, awaiting orders.

“First client is tomorrow, 2 o’clock. Go around back. Wait for further instruction.”

Sans nodded, then fidgeted. “wh-when...”

“I will tell you when your debt is repaid.”

Something deep inside Sans sparked for a second, saying that wasn’t exactly fair. Then the larger part of him resigned and said yes, none of this was fair, but he couldn’t do anything about it anyway. He nodded, then opened the door and left, clinging to the desperate hope that Papyrus was still asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans really needs to stop blaming himself for this. It’s nothing too complicated or emotional...Grillby just likes this sort of thing. It’s like those serial killers whose family and close friends are like “But they were so nice! I don’t understand how they could do this!” Sometimes there isn’t a rational explanation, and sometimes a person can be THAT good at hiding their true nature from those close to them. Grillby lives alone, is known to keep to himself, and doesn’t speak or open up to others much. But he’s also polite, well-respected, and runs a popular business. And while this is only a headcanon, I also assume he’s pretty old, maybe even old enough to have been there during the war. While Asgore would certainly take all accusations levied by his citizens seriously, and he’d never consciously approach an investigation in a biased way, he’d certainly find it hard to believe kind, loyal, mild-mannered Grillby would do such a thing.
> 
> Does Sans do as he’s told and allow himself to be pimped out to however many monsters it takes to pay off his debt? Or does he go to the authorities and try to out Grillby? OR does he learn some things about himself during the first few “sessions” (IE that he’s a bit of a masochist and likes rough sex more than he thought) and makes a career out of this, solving all of his money problems in one fell swoop? I’ll let you decide~
> 
> Oh also, I remember in the comments of chapter 3 of Bitches get Switches, SesuRescue mentioned how much she loved cumshots where it goes all the way up into their ribcages. So I hope you enjoyed more of that <3

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even know what this AU is but I’m sticking to it, lol. Not Underfell, but maybe a UT variation that’s headed down that path? Maybe Grillby’s got the king or the guard breathing down his neck and he’s gotta pay back some debts of his own? Who knows~ Originally toward the end I was tempted to delve into his thinking and reasoning just a bit, but in the end I decided to keep it ambiguous. Is this the first time Grillby has tortured someone for money? How often does this happen? What happens if Sans doesn’t pay now? Who knows~
> 
> Grillby this isn’t a sustainable business model, what are you thinking?
> 
> Tomorrow’s kinks are costumes and blood/gore. Because what is an October-based writing event without some spooky scary VAMPIRES~ At least I hope it comes out tomorrow. We'll see, lol. I’ve now caught up with the stories I’ve pre-written sooooo we’ll see what happens, haha.


End file.
